One of the most boring parts about travel accounts, I’ve realized, is the captions. They’re all so Here we are at this gorgeous place blah blah blah. I want to do something unique with my captions, give my photographs epic titles. I just haven’t found the right idea. I look back down at Ruth and then it hits me. I know exactly what my caption strategy is going to be.

It won’t even be hard. I already know all of Ruth’s favorite songs.

And I remember a lot from our playlists.

In the caption space, I write: “Moonage Daydream,” David Bowie, 1972.

Shared.

I don’t even know if Ruth will see it. Maybe she’ll think it’s dumb. But I can’t think of any other way to tell her what I want to say, to express it accurately. To tell her what I see. I don’t know how to tell her that when I look back, I measure my life in Treasure Hunts.

So I’ll do what I can to show her. Show her in pictures.

As I finally start drifting off, I imagine being the youngest photographer National Geographic has ever hired. I imagine professional travel photographers liking my work. I imagine them sending me a DM saying something like, Hey, your work is great! or Hey, you’ve got a good eye! or Hey, you want to come photograph penguins in Antarctica with me? And then being shocked when they realize I’m only thirteen.

I think about the Something New photo from last time, the one where Ruth’s jumping high in the air under the sign, and I imagine how easy it’s going to be to find something similar in New Or- leans.

I imagine taking a picture that makes Ruth smile.

CHAPTER FOUR

Our Something Gold picture from last time—the one Mom took of Ruth and me holding our boxes, standing in front of our glowing new house—isn’t quite the last Treasure Hunt photo I have. There’s one more, from our last Treasure Hunt that we did only a few months after we moved. On my birthday.

We moved in the summer, and then in November I turned eleven. Ruth and I had only been in our new schools a few months. I was much too nervous to have a party that involved inviting kids in my class who I didn’t know that well. So it was just the four of us: Mom, Dad, Ruth, and me.

The night before my birthday, Mom had tucked me in and told me she was sorry I wasn’t going to be able to have a party with all my friends from back home, and I could tell she was worried. She didn’t need to be though, because that zoo trip we did the next day became one of my favorite birthdays ever.